


The girl with the thorn in her side

by ninemoons42



Series: I'm Charlotte Xavier, Call Me Charles [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fights, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42





	The girl with the thorn in her side

  
title: The girl with the thorn in her side  
author: [](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**ninemoons42**](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/)  
word count: 3,747  
fandom: X-Men: First Class [movieverse]  
pairing: pre-relationship Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr  
rating: PG  
notes: A genderflip AU where Charles Xavier is actually Charlotte Xavier, sister of Raven Xavier. Dr. Erik Lehnsherr runs a tea shop with his sister Emma Lehnsherr. Lots of fluff and snark and descriptions of Charles getting into fights.  
Title and cut text adapted from The Smiths, "The boy with the thorn in his side".

  
 _Oh my god, not again,_ was her first thought when the door in the brick wall ahead opened, spilling out a bunch of drunken youths.

 _Rule number one, be thankful for short hair. Rule number two, be fucking inconspicuous._ So she pulled her collar up around her ears, pulled the lapels of her threadbare trench coat together, hurried on with her head down. The thing was to pretend she was hurrying by, nothing interesting to see here, not the Charles you’re looking for.

That all ended when a beer bottle came sailing past her ear – _Not even a good beer for three o’clock in the afternoon!_ \- and shattered with a loud crash on the broken pavement. “Hey, kid!”

She wanted to run, but then a hard fist caught her at the nape of her neck and she immediately went limp, waited for the grip to loosen – and then Charlotte-call-me-Charles Xavier dropped to her knees in a fighting crouch, leg already moving rapidly in a sweep that threw the man right flat onto his back.

“What the fuck – ” The others growled and started closing in, and Charles grinned and put up her fists in front of her face.

Three punches and one well-placed steel-toed boot in the gut later, she caught a punch right in the face, went down and rolled back up to her feet and while the three remaining thugs were still staring in shock she was already a whirling mess of kicks.

As soon as she could be reasonably certain that they were all down for the count, Charles picked up her backpack and ran for her very life.

There had been a knife back there, and she had desperately wanted it, but there was also a difference between being an idiot and being alive. Besides, her brother had just sold one of those, so there was new stock coming in to play with.

Around the corner as fast as she could and she ducked into the nearest shop, bell over her head chiming cheerfully and strangely, and when a boy in glasses peered curiously at her from the counter, she quickly blurted out: “Got any tea?”

A strange look, and then: “Yes, actually, this is a tea shop. Let me get you something, okay?”

And Charles breathed a sigh of relief as he walked off. Now she could patch up in peace. Quickly unzipping her bag, she was feeling around for the small kit with the aspirin and the bottle of iodine when a shadow fell over the table.

“Looks like a nasty one,” the tall blonde said, and she put a small glass bowl on the table, filled to the brim with ice. “Handkerchief?” And she dug one out of her pockets, a man’s pinstriped one in grey and maroon.

“Thank you,” Charles said, because she had still been raised to be polite, and then, after wrapping up a handful of ice cubes and applying them to her eye: “You’re really not actually concerned that I came in here looking like I just walked out of a fight?”

“I am very concerned, actually, because I know you just did,” the woman laughed, tossing her hair back over her shoulder as she sat down in the opposite chair, “but it looks like you know what you’re supposed to be doing, so I’ll ask questions later.” Pause, and then she stuck out her hand. “Emma Lehnsherr. Welcome to the shop.”

Charles grinned and shook hands. “Charlotte Xavier, from the university. Please call me Charles.”

The boy with the glasses walked up, then, and put the tea things down on the table. Charles hastily packed her things away, put reverent hands around her mug, brought it up to her face. Cinnamon and berry and a faint whiff of vanilla, good black tea. A small, warmed pitcher of cream. A wisp of grass in a crystal bud vase.

“Try the cookies. Janos comes in every morning to make a fresh batch,” Emma said. Charles glanced at the china cup in her hand; she was drinking coffee.

“You have a pretty place,” Charles offered, “and these biscuits of yours are really nice.”

“Erik’s idea,” Emma laughed. “My brother. He’s the genius behind this thing; I just run it for him.”

“And I am glad,” a new voice said, “that you are doing so well in running it. Very proud, too.”

“Erik,” Emma said, with warmth in her voice, and got up to hug the newcomer, a tall man in a blue turtleneck and steel-framed eyeglasses. “I’m trying to hook a new customer, and I think I’m succeeding. Charles, this is my brother.”

Charles laughed when Emma tipped her a wink. “Hello, Erik. And I think I’m definitely going to set up camp in here come finals week.”

“We would be very glad of it,” Erik said. “And I hope you won your last match.”

Charles tried to look him in the eyes. “I don’t go looking for fights like that, to be honest – it’s just self-defense.”

She watched Emma’s and Erik’s eyes darken in sympathy, and she slumped back down in her seat and sipped her tea silently, chewed through another biscuit.

“Let me handle this,” Erik said, after a moment, and she looked up as Emma nodded and kissed him on the forehead and slipped away. To her, Erik said, “Please do not get us wrong; it is just the opposite, that we quite understand your predicament. But I do not wish to dwell on that now, and I imagine you think the same way.”

“Kind of you to notice,” Charles said, mostly under her breath.

“Yes, well, perhaps I deserved that. Will you tell me what happened?”

Charles tilted her head inquisitively. “You and Emma are certainly different,” she said after a moment. “She said I looked like a hooligan coming in here, but she’d ask questions later. So, then, are you the one asking the questions?”

“That will be as you wish, Miss Charles.”

“Just Charles.” She shrugged and finished off her tea. “It’s nothing, truly. I dress like this precisely because I have to walk from the flat to the university and the road is not safe. I’m small, and no matter what my gender is I will always look like a target. Better to be inconspicuous.”

“A wise strategy,” Erik said, and looked up when the boy came out from behind the counter carrying another tray of tea things. “Thank you, Hank.”

“No problem, Erik. I’ll be in the back if you need me. Those papers aren’t going to write themselves.”

“You’re at university, too?” Charles asked.

“Yes, but I’m a couple of buildings over from you, I think. Engineering.”

“I’m in Genetics.” She stuck out a hand to him. “Nice to meet you. Charles Xavier.”

“Ah, now I know who you are. Hank McCoy. Talk to you on campus?”

“Please.” And then she turned back to a smiling Erik. “Oh, fuck.”

“I am aware of your reputation, Charles,” he said, taking off his glasses. “It is difficult to miss hearing about you, not when the other professors come here for their afternoon conversations.”

Charles smacked herself lightly in the forehead. “Why don’t you go ahead and say it. I’ve scandalized half the staff with my lectures, a quarter of them with my mode of dress, and most of the rest are angry because they all think I might fall for a bit of brains, a bit of money. Hmph.” And she put her nose in the air.

Erik put his glasses back on, drank the last of his tea. “I had not realized that you were in such a predicament, Charles. I quite pity my clientele now.”

“So you have heard the stories about me.” She sighed quietly when Erik spread his hands. “O happy day. Just once, I would like to meet someone who might even actually _try_ to understand exactly what I’m doing, and not judge me for broken knuckles or a bruise or two.”

“Perhaps you have just not encountered the right people yet,” Erik said, toying with the crumbs from Charles’s plate of biscuits.

“I sincerely hope that it is just that,” she sighed, and then she picked up her backpack, got to her feet. The bruise on her face was less puffy, but still hurt whenever she blinked. She held out a hand. “Thank you for the tea – which reminds me, here,” and Charles dug out her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“For this first cup, it is free,” Erik said, and there was definitely a smile in the lines around his eyes, though his mouth was set in a firm, straight line. “But I will ask you to come back some time.”

“I already said I would,” Charles laughed. She couldn’t help but laugh with this man, a tall courtly man who peered at her over his spectacles and listened to her, who paid attention to her and said not a word about her injuries, though he looked at her with respect, and concern. “Your staff might decide to chase me out when I start grading papers here.”

“They’ll do no such thing,” Erik said with a soft laugh. “Or I shall have Emma remind them not to disturb you.”

“Thank you so much.” And she smiled at him, as warmly as she could though it hurt to do so. “Nice to meet you, Erik. I’ll see you again, I hope.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Charles. I hope to speak with you again soon.”

She pushed out and that bell chimed cheerfully over her head once again. This time, she looked up, and smiled.

///

When Erik walked into the back office hours later, Emma was punching numbers into her calculator, her eyebrows pulled together into a straight line. She didn’t even look up from her work, merely said, “Tell all, Erik.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” he said, hanging up his jacket.

“I don’t have to look at you to know you’re lying through your shark teeth,” she snickered.

“Please stop saying that. I am not a shark.”

“I might think about stopping it if you started talking.”

Erik growled and dropped, hard, into his battered leather armchair. “What is there to tell that you do not already know? She is a brilliant woman, she is a professor at the university, she has amazing blue eyes, and that bruise on her face was quite distracting. I did not know whether to offer her more ice or to drop to my knees.”

“Short version, she’s exactly your type.”

“I have tried not to have one of those.”

He looked up sharply when Emma coughed, because the cough sounded a lot like the name _Angel_.

“I have asked you not to mention her name in my presence again.”

“Merely trying to illustrate a point, o big brother and wise leader,” Emma laughed. “You like them small; you get a kick or something out of looming over them, and being protective.”

“Which is not something that I am in the habit of doing, though people are insistent that I give off that impression - and that might be why I am doomed to fail with this one,” Erik sighed, and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Because she is quite determined to be independent, to protect herself. I would just get in her way.”

He accepted the hand that Emma laid gently on his head.

“Erik, I think you’re being too hard on yourself – and I definitely think you’re underestimating Charles. In any case, you know you won’t know anything until you ask.”

“Finals week is about a fortnight away.”

“Or we can just have Hank look her up, it’s not like they’re worlds apart on that campus.”

Erik smiled, and Emma laughed at him, and he couldn’t even say she was doing something wrong.

///

Charles knocked on the door and someone hollered, “Count to twenty and then come in – and don’t stand near the door!”

Shrug. One, two....

When Charles got to fifteen something went _thunk_ , and she grinned, and she hurried through the rest of the numbers and then pushed her key into the lock.

There was a vicious-looking flip knife embedded into the thick wood of the door, its black handle still vibrating from the force of the throw. “Good show; did anyone take pictures or video; and who’s responsible?”

“Charles?” And a tall man with his hair dyed fire-engine red leaned out of the doorway into the flat’s cramped kitchen. “Hey, sis! Welcome home!”

“You’re back early, Raven,” she laughed, and she ran right for him, barrelling into his chest with an “Oof!” “I thought you were supposed to be back from the show tomorrow?”

“Caught an early flight back since I managed to sell everything,” Raven said proudly, and kissed her on her cheek. “And I mean everything; I was even back-ordered. You’ll have to mail some packages for me from your office.”

“And what do I get in return for my generosity?” Charles asked, wiggling her eyebrows even as she crossed to the refrigerator and dug around in it for a chocolate bar.

Just as she turned away and began to walk back to her room, Raven called, “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that shiner, Charles – what the hell happened to you?”

“Got in a fight just after leaving uni,” Charles said. “I was trying to avoid them, honest. ’S not my fault they grabbed at me.”

“Which is why I keep telling you to call a cab, you know we can afford it.”

“I’m just as endangered by getting into a cab as I am walking the streets, and you know _that_ ,” Charles said, and she dropped heavily onto her bed, grunting when Raven sat down next to her. “I haven’t quite gotten over that terrible incident from last year, thank you very much.”

“Want to start carrying a bigger knife around?”

“Yes, please, if you’ve any you can spare.”

“I’ll always have one to spare for you, sis,” Raven said, and tugged at her for a hug.

“Oh. And I found an interesting place today,” Charles said after a long moment squeezing her brother. “Kind of a tea shop. It’s in a strange place, hidden away, but. Apparently the other instructors are already aware of it. The most divine tea, and there’s actually someone from uni working there too, and....”

“And what,” Raven said, beginning to grin. “You’re blushing, Charlotte – _ow_.”

She still had her hand raised to smack him again on the back of his head. “Remember that’s what happens every time you call me by my real name, idiot.”

“And it’s worth it if you’re going to tell me why you trailed off, and why you’re red in the face now.”

“Oh, all right,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I met the owner today. And, well, he’s heard stuff about me, and he – he didn’t judge me, Raven, not even when I was my usual charming self.”

“Charming as in opinionated.”

“That too.”

She watched, unable to stop herself from grinning, as Raven collapsed back into the sheets with a howl of laughter. “Is this you when you’re _infatuated_ , sis? What else does this mystery tea shop owner of yours have that’s got you all in a twist?”

Silently, she got to her feet, and raised one hand partway over her head.

“Brilliant,” Raven declared, and yanked her back down. “He’s taller than me? I say go for it. You always did have a weakness for the beanstalks.”

“Except for the part where every single one of them has either asked me to stop fighting or is so completely smothering.”

Raven sobered after a moment. “Right. Yeah. That.”

“So what do I do,” Charles said after a moment.

“I have absolutely no idea. But you should definitely go back to that tea shop, and maybe I can go with you some time.” As he walked out the door, he stopped, and asked, “This tall man have a name?”

“Erik,” she said. “Erik Lehnsherr.”

“Charles?”

“Raven?”

“Just go for it.”

When the door closed, Charles smiled, and put a hand over her eyes.

///

“...all right, you lot have the next period off. I want you to start brainstorming ideas for your group papers,” and the instructor’s voice was immediately undercut by a chorus of groans and complaints. “I understand it’s a nice day out, but you’re also here to get degrees, and I’m not giving you any grades to help you out with that if you don’t submit those papers.”

Erik stopped in the doorway, looked down into the crowded lecture hall. Clumps of students whispering frantically to each other, heads close together around laptops and tablet computers. Three or four students were already at the front of the room, arguing with the woman in the T-shirt and the floor-length plaid skirt.

She certainly looked _different_ , and she still looked amazing.

“...okay! No more questions?” he heard her say, and she made flapping motions at the stragglers. “Shoo, and let me go to lunch.”

And then he nearly jumped out of his skin when she called out to him. “I can see you, you know. Come here and help me with this blasted projector.”

He matched her smile with one of his own as he started down the steps. “Emma does say that it is difficult for me to be inconspicuous.”

“I wonder why,” she said, lightly. “Business here in uni?”

Erik shrugged. “I was going to see Hank, but he seems to have directed me to the wrong location.”

“Did he now.” He watched her shove several books into a different bag: an oversized blue satchel. “And so, you are here – what can I do for you, Erik?”

He held up his cargo, a handful of large paper bags. “I have bought too much food.”

Charles grinned. “I think I know a nice place for a picnic.”

///

Charles hiked up her skirts when they got to the slope, and paused when Erik chuckled. “Like my shoes?”

“I had guessed that you were simply going through a change of wardrobe; it is hard to imagine you running around without sensible shoes.” Erik shrugged.

“I try not to. Here’s a good place to stop.” There was a tree that leaned out on the slope, its branches curving down to the river. From her bag she pulled out a half-sized picnic blanket, and weighted down the corners with some rocks.

“You are always prepared for something like this?” Erik asked as he knelt down next to her.

“Because I come here at least three times a week,” Charles said. “I like working in the open air. Bad habit I picked up when I started studying. Oh, that smells nice.”

“Sandwiches,” Erik said, and she watched him unpack a handful of paper-wrapped bundles, followed by a large thermos, which she eyed with interest. “And tea, of course. We have a specific blend which we recommend for people who like cold drinks.”

“This is a feast,” she joked. “You sure this was all just for Hank?”

She couldn’t stop grinning as she watched Erik scratch his head. “Do you want me to tell you that which you have already guessed?”

“On second thought, no,” she laughed, and she picked one of the sandwiches and took a huge bite. Roast beef and pickle, spicy dressing.

///

Erik watched as Charles finished off her sandwich. Her hands moving as she poured the tea, offered him the cup from the thermos. The same hands that he’d seen battered and torn up in the tea shop, utterly incongruous against the elegant tablecloths and Emma’s china. The same hands that had stacked books and shuffled papers into a neat stack in the lecture room.

The same hands that were now bleeding again, as she hissed and cut her palm open on one of the stones weighing the blanket down. “Ow, fuck,” she was saying, and she was flailing toward her bag, one-handed. Blood trickling down onto her wrist.

“Stop moving,” Erik snapped, suddenly, and he watched her freeze and hold her hand out past the picnic blanket. “Where in your bag are your supplies?”

“Green pouch,” she said.

Erik went to sit next to her, poured some iodine into her hand and ran it over the cut with a wad of tissue, then wrapped a length of bandage around her palm and taped it down.

“Anyone in your shop accident-prone?” Charles asked as she flexed her hand.

“Emma, when we were younger.” He looked away, suppressed the memories of the beatings and the shouted abuse. “I am now a doctor, because I hated seeing her hurt.”

“I hate that so much,” Charles muttered after a moment. “’S probably why I keep stepping into fights. I can’t help but want to defend people. Who the hell thinks taunting others is fun?”

“It is fun,” Erik said, mildly, and he thought about the good-natured abuse that flew thick and fast whenever Emma had friends to their house. “When it is done properly and creatively.”

“Point. But when it’s so unimaginative, when it’s so blatantly stupid, I just want to kill people.”

Erik smiled, and put a hand on Charles’s shoulder. “On that, I see we are agreed.”

“You’re a good man, Erik Lehnsherr,” Charles said, and put her hand atop his.

[the beginning of a beautiful relationship]  



End file.
